Lose forty pounds in two months! Get that trim waist you’ve been dreaming about! Six pack abs! Rock hard thighs! Bunzzzz of steel! Unwashed hair! A stench of dirt, fear and death! A gaunt, underfed demeanor! ​

Okay, I guess those last ones sound kind of bad. Well, they aren’t great. They are just some of the side effects of my post-apocalyptic diet plan. But come on, we all want to be thin, right?

Before the collapse of civilization I spent literal hours each day tracking calories, working out, and logging steps in an attempt to get that trim, thin body that Hollywood told me I should have. Little did I know that I was just a blink away from that goal. All it took was the complete collapse of civilization as we know it.

It’s pretty easy to give up full-fat lattes, pizza and wine when those things don’t exist anymore. The first time we raided a half-empty department store and I picked up a pair of size two jeans I found on the floor and put them on (because what I was wearing hadn’t been washed in weeks) and they fit, I have to admit I was over the moon. Hungry. Dirty. Scared. But still over the moon. I mean, come on, a size two.

Although, these days I might would give up my new trim look for a full-fat latte, a piece of pizza, or a glass of wine. At this point I would probably give an arm for any of those things. I’d give my right arm, but probably not my left arm. I’m a southpaw and I still have to be able to survive. At least, that’s what I think about as I scrounge through a mostly empty supermarket looking for my next meal. ​

So, anyway, how does my diet work? It’s not just the lack of food. It’s the constant moving. Us survivors, we are a pack of nomads now.​

Like that day we had to run two miles, being chased by wild zombiefied-looking dogs. We thought we had found the mother load of food in a dumpster behind an old taco joint. I guess the dogs thought the same. My new lean, muscular legs carried me faster than I ever dreamed possible.

There was a time when my cardio was taking the stairs to my third floor office instead of the elevator, and even then, I’d be out of breath. Fitness was the F word. But I’m now here to tell you, there really isn’t anything much better to motivate you to move like your life literally depending on it.

Sure, it’s a hard life. No electricity or cars or restaurants or internet. No refrigerators or ovens. But hey, on the plus side, this diet doesn’t restrict you to certain foods. You don’t have to be paleo, vegan, gluten-free, South Beach, Adkins anything. You can literally eat anything that you can find. It’s just…good luck finding it.

I miss Facebook. Mostly because I sometimes think about how awesome my profile picture could be. Just a shot of these abs and my ribcage. Look at me now! 

The day before everything went sideways and the world collapsed, I was under my calorie intake goal. You know, the goal number that a little electronic app tells you how much you can eat. I turned down a cupcake to stay under that magic number. I was really proud of myself for that. I can’t think of much I wouldn’t do right now for a cupcake. 

But, I’m thin. I’m fit. I’m end-of-civilization ripped. 

Knowing my luck, some group of nomads will settle down, start farming, fatten up, start a post-apocalyptic Vogue and declare squishy thighs and soft bellies all the rage. Probably.

It’s all about the things we can never be, right?